


A Trip Back to the Madhouse

by IShipSabrielAndDestielSoHard



Category: DCU (Movies), Harley Quinn (Comics), The Joker - Fandom
Genre: I'm gonna add more tags with each chapter, This is just the start to my story, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 19:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2282565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShipSabrielAndDestielSoHard/pseuds/IShipSabrielAndDestielSoHard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harley is back at the Asylum for the first time since she ran away with Joker. Here they are going to try several different psycho-therapy techniques to see if they can cure her from this 'mad love' she seems to be suffering from. But being caught was a part of their plan, right?</p><p> </p><p>||This story is inspired by the web series "The Joker Blogs". I really enjoyed the series and I wanted to make a Harley version of it. This story is in first person from Harley's perspective. My Harley is based off of what I think she would have been like if she were in the Nolan movies.||</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trip Back to the Madhouse

I was shoved into the crowded precinct. Two cops at my sides, another at an enclosed counter a few feet away.

"We got her." The room erupted with clapping, hoots, and hollers. I was a game and they all thought they won first place.

"Bring 'er here." The cop behind the counter spoke around a mouthful of food. the bulletproof glass before him was smudged in the vague shape of a face. They couldn't even be bothered to wipe it down with a paper towel. No wonder Gotham was going to shit.

"Pat 'er down an' make sure she ain't got no weapons on her." It was then that I was frisked by two pairs of large hands. I frowned, my hands out in front of me as per procedure, as they shuffled through the various pockets on my civilian clothes. They pulled out three knives, a pair of black finger-less gloves with my red diamonds stitched into them, a joker card with a lipstick stain on it, two loaded 9 mml with accompanying mags and small aerosol canister filled with a mild fear toxin.

"Jesus.." the guard to my right whispered, setting the canister down on a small fold out table along with my other belongings.

_**pop** _

I snapped my gum, earning a disapproving glare from the one behind the desk and a satisfying flinch from the one to my right.

I could take them out, it would be simple. The one on the right would be too frightened to fight back immediately. Yes my hands were cuffed, but in front of me. A mistake on their part. I'd grab his arm and yank him forward before placing a booted heel to his stomach, then when he coughed and fell to the ground the one on the left would lunge at me. I would counter his move easily, he would be fighting with anger so he wouldn't be thinking. Stepping to the side I would raise me arms and slam his face down center with the face smudge on the glass. Before the cop behind the desk could manage to get out from his safe little cell to apprehend me, I would have taken the second cops gun and the first cop as a hostage. Securing my exit.

But, I didn't do any of that. I just widened my grin and winked, snapping my gum again. "Y'know, it's only proper to take a girl on a date before ya frisk her and then picture her demise. Naughty naughty!" I waved a finger at each cop. "Now, are we almost finished here? 'Cuz I am BEAT and I need my beauty sleep!"

The first cop gave a wary glance to the second, who responded with a nod. "Get her prints, then get her in a truck and to Arkham." The second cop spoke calmly.  
I was then shoved roughly through the procedure every criminal goes through when they aren't in the system yet. Prints and swabs. Pictures and testimonies. Goodness gracious I was going to die of boredom.

I sat in one of those interrogation rooms, you know, the kind with the two way glass. Some dead beat crooked cop was pointing a sausage finger at me, he reeked of cigarette smoke. "Look! I know ya did it, kay? But I still want my money so just play it nice and pretty and got to the Asylum. I don't wanna hear about any incidents, understand?"  
I gave him a mock salute, "Oh you bet, Mr. Bullock. Scouts honor, won't do nothin' bad!" I bat my lashes a few times and widened my smile.  
He only narrowed his eyes before scoffing and stepping out. I let out a long sigh, slumping in my chair. These people.. so monotonous with their rules and regulations. Where was the fun? The excitement? Once I'm back in the Asylum, then the fun will start.


End file.
